


nothing left to lose

by miserybug



Series: assorted mcyt one shots [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dream Smp, Friends to Enemies, Gen, L’manberg, Minecraft, Politics, War, but like its all in minecraft lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miserybug/pseuds/miserybug
Summary: Look, George. Everything the light touches is our kingdom. A king’s time as a ruler rises and falls like the sun. One day, George, the sun will set on my time here, and will rise with you as the new king.… He hadn’t meant it like that.(On two best friends on the opposite sides of a war. The pair we don’t talk about.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: assorted mcyt one shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1963288
Comments: 12
Kudos: 117





	nothing left to lose

Dream sits on the mountain top alone in front of him, his back to George as he watches the sun set over the remains of an old world order. George pockets his communicator and goes to sit next to Dream, careful not to dirty his newly tailored outfit. 

“Nice suit,” Dream says as a form of greeting. George nods, humming in agreement. 

“It’s a change of pace,” he admits, “but not an unwelcome one. I think I rock it.” Dream laughs at that, a smile in his voice. 

“Sure, buddy.” He draws out the first word sarcastically, and George gasps in mocking outrage, pretending to be hurt. 

It’s silent for a moment. “It’s good to see you, y’know.” George says, the words coming out of his mouth in what feels like an accident. “Haven’t seen you around since… well I guess since the debates.” 

Dream rubs his arm awkwardly. “Well. I thought I’d see you at the rally, but…” George winces, remembering how Quackity had chewed him out for sleeping in so late. 

“Yeah.” George mutters, a bit embarrassed. “So. What’ve you been up to?” 

It’s Dream’s turn to wince, he guesses. The other tries to hide it, but George knows him too well to miss the way he grimaces. “Ah…” Dream hesitates. “Stuff. Things. Nothing that important.” 

“What, are you really not gonna tell me?” George asks, looking over at him fully. Dream shifts, and George knows that behind the mask, the younger boy is looking anywhere but at him. 

“...Sorry, George, I really can’t.” Dream sighs, standing up to walk closer to the edge. He’s acting like some sort of dramatic anime protagonist, George thinks, laughing to himself. He stands to follow the speedrunner, curious. 

“No, come on, tell me! You’re kidding, right? You. Dream, I mean. I’m your best friend,” he says, hurt slightly at the fact that Dream’s walking away so soon. “I get it if you don’t want to say, but… at least tell me why, Dream!” 

“Well, Tommy said th-“ Dream stops abruptly- looking at George like a deer in headlights. 

George pauses. Oh. So that’s why. 

He remembers back to the first war. Tubbo’s house burnt to the ground, Dream and Sapnap making furious demands. Cannons and subterfuge and George, trying to keep things in line. George, drawing the clear boundary, and no one listening. And now, George, who’s apparently the one crossing the line Dream’s drawn in the sand. Apparently lawful victory is too much for someone like Dream. Apparently Dream’s only willing to do what it takes when it’s him on the winning team, when it isn’t a democratically elected party. 

“Cat’s out of the bag then, huh, Dream.” George says, feeling far too empty. “And here I thought we had something.” He jokes, a lighthearted grin flitting across his face that doesn’t match the chagrin he feels. 

“I… George, look, I don’t mean to-“

George cuts him off, shaking his head. “No, no! Really, it’s fine. I don’t get it, but, uh. No, it’s fine.” With something like bitterness flowing through him, he bites out a quip. “Honestly, I thought you’d be proud! Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place? White flags, Wilbur admitting defeat, running off like the fucking coward he is, yeah? Though, I guess he’s your friend now, huh. My bad.” He spits the false apology out like the insult it’s intended to be.

“George...” Dream whispers, stumbling backwards as if physically wounded. George doesn’t have to see his face to imagine the pain his expression must hold right now. 

He shrugs, numbly nonchalant. Some part of him feels bad, he guesses. He had been through so much with Dream, and... maybe it wasn’t right to turn his back on him so easily. “You act like you’re hurt. It’s not even your country, Dream.” The masked man scoffs in affront. 

“That doesn’t matter, George!” The younger man gestures to the wasteland that once was L’manberg in the distance, and George stares out at it with a cool indifference from behind his glasses. Dream steps towards him and he looks back towards him out of habit. The other boy leans in, like he’s searching for something on his face. Regret, maybe. Guilt, or hesitation. He adjusts his new suit jacket uncomfortably, the scrutiny making him nervous. 

He steps back just as Dream leans backwards again, the other boy’s shoulder’s drooping in disappointment. He shifts so his back is fully to Dream and the mountaintop they stand on and he faces the nation of Manberg. “A month ago, our roles were reversed. You, desperate to crush the rebellion under your heel, me, holding you back from annihilating them entirely.” The crumbled remains of the walls in the distance paint a familiar scene. All that’s missing is some cannons and a caravan, both of those relics having been dismantled as well. “You’re being a bit of a hypocrite, Dream.”

Dream flinches from where he’s stepped up next to him, and the incredulous side eye he gives George lets him know he’s struck a nerve. Something inside of George feels smug, like for once he’s finally got the upper hand. “And look where that anger got me, George.” Dream gestures to himself now, and George looks over, examining his friend’s hoodie, his mask, his jeans. 

“You look perfectly fine to me.” He knows Dream doesn’t mean that literally. 

“George, come on. This- I mean, this must be a joke, George. They won their independence fair and square! You’re joking! This... this is just tyranny! There’s no reason behind it all, there’s no justification.” The man in green steps back, like he’s come to some earth shattering revelation. “You’ve changed.” 

A mocking laugh bubbles in George’s throat, and pent up anger simmers in his chest. He whips around to fully face Dream. “I’ve changed?  _ I’ve _ changed?! You’re the one acting like you’ve got some sort of moral superiority here. You’re the one pretending that you give a single SHIT about Wilbur and Tommy when not even weeks ago you razed their land to the ground.” 

“I’ve _LEARNED_ , George!” Dream shouts, something like desperation in his voice. “Clearly,” he states, the desperation melting into something more like disgust, “you haven’t.” 

“There he goes again- claiming the high ground.” George rolls his eyes. “You want to know something? I really don’t think you’ve learned at all. I think you just don’t want to lose again. I think you’re weak, Dream. What, you want to play for the other team now? Want to frolic in exile with the same bastards you tried to blow to smithereens? Go ahead, _Clay_. Abandon us to soothe your own ego.” At some point, he’s started shouting, an accusing finger pointed directly at his friend... at Dream’s chest. With each statement, he can see Dream grow angrier, like he’s repeatedly shoving a stick into a beehive. 

George can’t bring himself to care. He turns, straightening his suit jacket once again. He stares at Dream in unwavering silence, and behind the mask he can almost see the cogs in his head turning, trying to calculate where to go next. 

“I did what you never could, Dream.” He says, not waiting for the other’s heated response. “Schlatt won. You can’t change that. You can play pretend, you can act like you’re some sort of Robin Hood, helping out the poor, needy criminals. But at the end of the day, it’s Manberg now. You’re not involved anymore. And Dream?” He asks, turning to walk away. 

He can hear Dream deflate, a heavy sigh that almost sounds defeated. “George?” he responds, his tone hollow. 

“We’re going to make this country what it was meant to be.” He walks, not bothering to look back. There’s nothing back there worth remembering. 

( ~~Dream sits on the mountain top alone. In solemn silence, he takes his mask off and sets it to the side. There is no one left to see him cry.~~ )

**Author's Note:**

> title from the tangled song because i’ve had the villain songs from that show in my mind on loop for the past week lol
> 
> thought this was just a very underrated change in dynamic!!! it’s my first time writing dream and george so in depth so be gentle but yeah!
> 
> also-ive been procrastinating sick of singing about me by writing like three chapters after the one i need to post next so i am so sorry lol but don’t worry it’s almost ready to post. soon. probably. oh god.


End file.
